


bait for bills.

by sp201120122013



Series: Dangerverse [3]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp201120122013/pseuds/sp201120122013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>pony takes poison out whoring for the first time.</p><p>(originally posted 2012)</p>
            </blockquote>





	bait for bills.

"Shit. Shit."

"What's wrong, Party baby?" Pony asked from his spot on the table Poison was writing on.

Poison sighed, flinging the wrinkled memo pad paper onto the table. "Short on funds. KK must've been blowing them again on something."

"Gotta watch him." Pony said, crossing his legs as he leaned closer to Poison, raising his eyebrows at the figures. "Wow, he did land you in the hole."

"Yeah, no fuckin' kidding." Poison snapped. "We're in debt. Debt. I brought enough money to last us six fucking months, and we're in debt at the end of two. Two! What does he even spend it on?"

"Booze."

"Obviously."

"Cigarettes."

"Don't remind me, those sticks reek."

"Drugs."

"Drugs?" Poison said, exasperated.

"Nothing serious. Just a few uppers and downers here and there. I've seen him talking to the real mild guys." Pony said quickly, attempting to calm Poison down.

"God, I--what is he even thinking? We came out here for a purpose, not for him to just, just run around doing whatever he wants! He doesn't have a blasted clue about...well, anything. Which is nothing fucking new." Poison huffed, getting up and giving his chair a well-measured kick.

"Watch the furniture." Pony drawled, cracking his neck and stretching his long, gangly arms out.

"So what do I do now? We've got half a tank of gas left, and runs scheduled this week. Can't skip out on runs, we're almost out of meds. And food. We've barely got any food left. Except maybe three cans of beans, and of course KK isn't going to want those. He expects a goddamn steak or something. Fuck, even if I don't eat, that's only a day of food. And we can't just snatch that shit."

"You could come out and work with me." Pony offered.

"I don't even know what you do, Pony. And I'd probably be no good at it." Poison sighed, returning to the chair and slumping in it. "I can't push drugs or anything, I'm not that...silver-tongued."

"I'm not a pusher. Goodness, Poison, I don't know what you expect of me." Pony tossed his hair, strutting in an exaggerated sense to stand in front of Poison, thrusting his hips out a bit. Poison blinked at Pony's crotch, looking more depressed than anything else.

"Pony, what are you doing?" he said flatly. It was less of a question and more of a statement.

Pony leaned down, sliding his fingers under his chin and squeezing his thumb into Poison's cheek. Poison squirmed, and Pony just tipped Poison's head up higher, walking closer to him with that same gangly strut. Pony's crotch was nearly in Poison's face, given Pony's height and Poison's sitting status.

"Stop." Poison said, shaking his head away and frowning. "We agreed we weren't doing that anymore."

"Not with each other." Pony smirked.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means..." Pony started, sliding himself down to straddle Poison. "That other people will pay a pretty stack of carbons for ass in the desert." he whispered into Poison's ear.

The hairs on Poison's neck stood up, and he felt his stomach spin over in a way that was half nausea, half horror--and laced with the aura of anticipation. "Not mine."

"Poison, come on. Have you looked in the mirror? Ever?"

"What? What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're tiny. Skinny. Girly face, girly hips. It's obvious you're a little twink."

"I'm not gay," Poison said quickly, trying to move his head away as Pony licked and bit at his earlobe, sliding hands down his chest. "Pony, stop."

"I'm not gay either," Pony smiled, pulling back and delicately wiping his mouth. "Being attracted to one sex died out after 2014."

"Pony, you were one...one time, that doesn't mean I'm...excessively into men."

"Bullshit you're not. I watch you. And when I do, you're watching other men. You'd rather gawk at your brother's dumb mug than pick up your eyeballs for a ladyjoy."

"That's not true. And please, don't bring KK into this."

"KK's into girls. But you're not."

"Not as much." Poison mumbled, averting his eyes downward. "That's not saying--"

"I know, I know. You're not gay. It's just a matter of the right girl, isn't it? The one to make mom and dad proud? Make a good wife? A good girl to pose next to you in all the pictures, come home to and bake you cookies? Wise up, Party. That's not your life anymore." Pony snapped at him, pushing himself off of his lap and dusting off his front as he stood up again. "I'm saying, before we started debating the minute miseries of your sexuality. You need money. You're cute enough to make it with your tail, so are you going to? Or are you going to starve?"

Poison sighed, leaning over and putting his face in his hands. He knew Pony was right. He'd gotten comments about his size, even when he was still in the City. They called him a little rat boy, commented on how scrawny, how short he was compared to all the other recruits. He knew, he knew about the prostitution rings in the outer Zones. He'd busted up a few before. Being on the other side of the line was never something he'd anticipated doing.

"I'll do it." he mumbled halfheartedly. "Can't be that hard, can it?" he asked, looking up at Pony.

Pony smiled down at him. "Just lie back and think of England."

\-----

"I look like an asshole." Poison hissed to Pony, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What? Can't hear you!" Pony said loudly, not a touch of subtlety taking his words down. "Gonna have to speak up," he said, grinning at Poison.

Poison didn't share the expression. He glared at Pony, glaring being a nice way to describe it. Pony appeared to be easily in his element, changed out of his usual work cargos and into a pair of stupidly tight jeans. They were nothing Poison hadn't seen before, being the same pants that Pony had been wearing when they met at the bars in the first place. It was the way he was wearing them now that were so different, the way he swung his hips around corners and conveniently collided them into the hips of the other men at the bar.

Pony had lent Poison an extra pair of pants, something that clung tighter to Poison's scrawny thighs than his old, tired exterminator pants did. They were too long for one, though, and still sagged in the ass for another. He had them tucked into his boots to fix the first problem, but the second couldn't be remedied. Poison watched Pony slink around and greet friend after friend, and stuck to the back, to the shadows. He figured he ought to follow Pony, but he didn't have the guts.

Besides, there wasn't such a need for it. Pony was soon back at his side, dragging a stern, beefy looking twenty-something along. He didn't look pleased to be stuck to the arm of Pony, and Poison attempted to keep his eyes down. Business, he thought. It was Pony's business.

"Business." Pony cooed at Poison, reaching out to tip his chin up. Poison swallowed. "Does he look good to you?" Pony asked the man he had hauled over.

"Looks fine," the beefier Killjoy grumbled. He made no point for eye contact with Poison, and Poison did the same. It was Pony who had to interrupt again, after two stagnant minutes.

"So, do you need me to show you to the back? There are rooms, I'm sure you already know," Pony said, talking fast. Poison frowned up at him. This wasn't the bar that he and D owned, but Poison figured Poison must know his way around. He knew everyone at least, he knew his way around even better.

"S'fine." the man grunted. "C'mon," he said, giving Poison's shoulder a tug.

His fingers lingered there, sliding down the gangly flesh of his arm. Poison shivered a little, feeling the grime of the stranger's fingers in between the lingering dust stuck to his own skin. Poison followed him, shoving his hands in the back pockets of those stupid, stupid pants he had been lent. He had kept his own shirt, at least. Pony had deemed it tight enough. Briefly, Poison wondered if when he and KK had come out to the zones in the first place, Pony had given that shirt to him on purpose. It had been "all they had," but Poison was starting to question that.

He didn't have much time to wonder, though. The man had led him to the back, and the door of the room they'd entered just shut behind them both. Poison looked at the man for the first time, and was met with squinty, glaring eyes. They were sizing him up, Poison realized. He looked down, briefly, noticing just how tight his clothes were stuck to him. Even the pants.

"Go. I'll be ready in a minute," the man muttered. He had his back turned to Poison, and Poison could only assume he was unzipping himself. It was then that Poison didn't realize what he was supposed to do.

"I--"

"What?" the man barked, jerking his head over his shoulder.

"I, uh...how do you want me?" Poison mumbled, attempting to pull a hint of sex into his voice. It didn't work, and he could hear it failing. He just sounded sick, he just sounded sad and insecure. The same way as when he'd failed his driver's test the first time, the only failure he'd ever racked up in the city. It appeared as though this was the first he was going to add to his shit list now that he was in the zones.

The man huffed, turning around again. His silence served to make Poison even more uneasy about the situation.

"I'll just--" Poison started, making towards his waistband.

"Get on the bed, pants off, ass up, face down. I'll be there in a minute. Told you I'd do it in a minute."

"Gotcha." Poison said, bending over to unlace his boots before shoving his pants down to his knees, then kicking them off entirely.

Close to the bed, he remembered. Pony had given him a brief rundown of what to do and what not to do once he got onto the "scene," and keeping clothes close was one of them. It was important to keep everything handy if something went wrong, to be able to get dressed fast. Pony didn't tell him any horror stories, but Poison wasn't dumb enough to assume that they didn't exist. He tucked his socks into his boots, and bit his lip one last time before he shoved his underwear inside of his left boot as well.

He took a deep breath, crawling onto the bed and assuming the position. Poison didn't hear anything, and tried to ignore the silence from the man as well as the way the smell of the sheets crawled up inside of his nose, made the knots in his stomach clench up sicker. He did hear a rustle from behind him, a few seconds later, and the springs of the bed creaked as the additional weight was added to the old mattress. Poison briefly wondered when the sheets had last been changed, but he wasn't left with much time to wonder.

"I don't want you to say anything. Hate talkers. You're not like your friend, are you?" the man asked, setting a heavy hand on Poison's ass.

"No." Poison said quietly.

"Good. Your friend's a fuckin...dumbass motormouth."

Poison kept quiet as the man's hands slid closer to his asshole, dawdling for a minute before shoving one finger, two fingers in. Poison gasped out in pain, he couldn't keep it down. It had only been with Pony before, Pony hadn't gone this fast. Pony had taken care of him, and talked him through every step. He had been a virgin then, in most ways. He wasn't now, and he and Pony weren't together. Pony didn't have an obligation to sweet-talk Poison through his first try at prostitution, and the guy pushing his jeans down a little farther, pushing his cock into Poison a little deeper, had even less of an obligation.

It hurt. It hurt a lot, and Poison scrabbled his arms to find one of the greasy, stained pillows on the bed to shove in his mouth. There was something making it go smoother, the man wasn't working him dry. But he wasn't working him generously, either. He was leaning over him, and Poison could feel the zippers of his jacket scraping against the skin of his back. He hadn't even bothered to take it off, Poison realized. He swallowed back his protests, letting the ones that did slip out greet the pillow between his teeth. It tasted like gasoline smelled, tasted of sweat and smoke. It was getting soggy with Poison's spit.

"Shit, shit..." he heard the man huffing behind him. "Tight fuckin' ass."

Poison kept silent, digging his fingers into the bed and biting down harder. It had to be over soon, he thought. This man was all business. With the way his hips were slamming into him, it had to be getting to the end. Poison had only been fucked a few times, but Pony had always pushed into him faster when things were starting to finish.

He finished by pulling out and spilling all over Poison's back, and Poison swore at himself for not thinking to take that off in the preparations for things. It'd stain. He'd just have to leave his vest on, for the sake of KK not asking. Well, more like KK not throwing any jeers at him. KK wouldn't need to ask.

The man hung behind Poison a short time, digging his nails into the marks he'd already left in Poison's ass while taking the time to catch his breath. "Good boy," he said in between his pants. "Good, good boy."

He pulled off, and Poison eased himself up into a sitting position. His knees ached and his back was sore, his ass wasn't even to be mentioned at the moment. It was burning, aching, split and sore. But it was par for the course. He'd been expecting it easily enough. He wasn't stupid. The man didn't say anything as he wiped himself off, dragging his hand on the sheets. Poison figured that would account for the smell. It was a lingering smell, after all. Poison was fast to reach for his clothes, underwear first, socks second. They were the "building blocks." Pony had told him that, too. He remembered everything, all of the little details Pony had skimmed over.

Pony hadn't mentioned that, occasionally, Poison would be left in a room with a half tied boot, gaping like an idiot at a slamming door as his first "client" escaped with his payment. He'd just been fucked for free.

"Shit!" Poison hissed as he scrabbled to pull his jeans higher up his ass, kicking the door open as he ran down the hall, down the stairs back to the main room of the bar.

He looked around for Pony, desperately, but couldn't see him anywhere. He swore again, looking around but finding nothing. Pony was probably off doing whoring the way it should be done. With an actual exchange of money. Poison kicked a corner of the wall, swearing again as he looked out into the teeming mass of bodies in the barlight, squinting to try and find Pony maybe this time, maybe this time. It was no use, though. He was sunk.

"This yours?"

Poison turned around to find Pony behind him, snuck up in some magical sense. Pony's hair was ruffled and his cheeks were flushed. In his hand was a battered, half-leather half-duct tape wallet. Poison reached for it, flipping through it. There was no ID, and it was stuffed with carbons. Way more than the single bill lining his wallet, back at the base.

"No, it's--" Poison started, before Pony raised his eyebrows at him. "Oh, shit. It is mine."

"Your cute little ass earned it, I'd say." Pony smirked, leaning down to give Poison a kiss on the cheek. "I figured he'd try and take advantage of you. Well, I knew. He bailed on me the first time I had him, so...let's just say me handing his face to him was a little revenge, hmm?"

"I thought I'd lost him." Poison said, turning the fat wallet over in his hands.

"You've got it." Pony said, running a hand through Poison's straggly, sex scuffed hair. He was jutting his hips out at Poison just the way he'd used to, when they had first met and Pony was still tossing his tricks at Poison. It was different now, and feelings were buried. They were coworkers, a tag team. No sentimentalities, no more kisses and cuddles. That was long since passed.

Poison could deal with that. He'd been business in the City, and the Zones were no different. Everything was business. Him swinging his ass around wasn't going to be any different than swinging a gun around. And all that swinging, day and night in different varieties, that was just the way that things were going to have to be from now on.


End file.
